The Wolf and Lily
by shawnarlene
Summary: A Slytherin walks into a tattoo parlor... This is what happens next.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: **

This world belongs to JK Rowling, I just like to play in it every once in a while. :)

A huge thanks to fulldaysdrive for being an amazing beta and putting up with my terrible grammar.

"Come on, Da!" an exasperated voice shouted — more so to be heard over the grating noise of what Draco assumed was supposed to be music, than actual anger.

"For the hundredth time Ted, it's not going to happen. Will you turn down that bloody racket you call music?" replied a second, deeper voice, sounding equally exasperated.

Draco had been sent here by one of his younger employees. Apparently The Wolf and Lily, which appeared to be a simple Muggle tattoo parlour, was run by wizards: a father and son. The shop, catering to all clients, had two entrances. There was the Muggle entrance crammed between The Camden Head and a run-down chippy just off the high street in Camden Town, and there was the wizarding entrance. The wizarding entrance was located a block away form his bookstore in Element Alley; an up and coming wizarding area located in the heart of Camden Town. It lead into a separate waiting area hidden in the back of the shop, no doubt obscured with Muggle repelling charms and glamours.

The waiting area — the wizarding one — had several large portraits on the walls showing off pieces done by both father and son. The tattoos pictured were infused with magic. Some were charmed to move, some changed colour, and lastly there were those that had glamour charms worked in so they could be hidden when necessary.

There were four overstuffed sapphire suede armchairs along one wall, and a rather large glass coffee table with what Draco assumed to be books filled with even more work done by the father-son team. A stainless steel table with industrial fittings and a huge black leather desk chair took up another wall. On top of it was a wizarding wireless that was currently blaring what Draco now recognised as a track from the latest Banshees album. The third was lined with metal shelving and housed an impressive array of books on photography and illustration, which Draco assumed were used as reference material for the artists. The final wall wasn't a wall at all, but a large black velvet curtain that separated the wizarding waiting area from the rest of the shop.

The curtain flew open and a very small girl entered, turning down the wireless as she sat down behind the massive desk. She began to flip through the date book, somehow humming along to the screaming coming from the speakers.

Draco coughed to announce his presence, and the girl jumped. She obviously hadn't realised she wasn't alone.

"Sorry sir," she said. She had a bright smile and twinkling golden eyes. "Name's Piper, what can I do ya for?"

Draco wrinkled his nose at the American accent and poor grammar, at the same time trying to stifle a smile as he took in her appearance.

She was maybe four-foot-nine, if one were to be generous, and looked to be around twenty years old. She had bright purple hair with a teal streaked fringe, styled in a choppy spiked pixie cut that gave her the air of some kind of fae creature.

She was dressed in a tight black cropped tank top with a gash along the shoulder that appeared to be held together with Muggle safety pins. Her pleated miniskirt was patterned with the Union Jack and adorned with rivets and chains along the waistline. On her feet were a pair of heavily worn combat boots. She had three hoops in each ear and an aquamarine stud in her nose.

"Sir?" the girl asked warily. A small, concerned wrinkle formed in between her brow, and her tiny bow mouth drew up into a ridiculous pout.

"Sorry!" Draco's face flamed as he realised he'd been caught staring. He quickly glanced around the room, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair as he took a step toward the desk. He cleared his throat, trying to cover his embarrassment at being caught out.

"Sorry," he said again. "Yes, um, I'd like to talk with someone about getting a tattoo."

The receptionist — Piper — paused her perusal of the date book and blinked at him a few times. Her eyes seemed to get larger and more penetrating with each blink. Slowly, the blinding smile returned and she nodded. "Yeah, I kind of had a suspicion that might be the case." She laughed. "I didn't think you came here to admire the furniture."

"Well, it is very nice furniture." He desperately tried to regain his footing, fully aware that somehow this tiny slip of a girl was able to unsettle him, despite years of uptight Pureblood upbringing.

The curtain swished a second time, and this time a slim twenty-something man appeared. He sported a turquoise mohawk, a worn black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off that said, "Sex Pistols" in messy white lettering, and tight black jeans. He had a large gunmetal cross dangling from one ear, and black leather cuffs around each wrist. On his right arm was a Muggle tattoo of a wolf baying at a full moon, and something written in barely legible fancy script across his right forearm.

"Who's this then?" the man asks Piper; Draco recognized the voice from when he first arrived; this must be Ted.

Piper, if possible, smiled even wider upon Ted's entrance. "Not sure yet. Says he's looking to talk to someone about getting some work done, but could be here just to admire the lovely blue chairs the boss just bought."

Ted and Draco both snorted at this, trying to stifle their laughter. It was hard for Draco to maintain his stoic Slytherin mask when in the company of Piper the pixie.

"Wizard or Muggle?" Ted enquired, turning back to Draco who was still standing in front of the desk, slightly unnerved that he had been shaken so easily.

"Pardon?" Draco asked, completely blindsided by the question and slightly offended that anyone would assume he was a Muggle. He was in the wizard waiting area, for Merlin's sake!

"Your tattoo," Ted clarified. "Do you want a wizarding one or a Muggle one?"

"Oh," Draco sighed, relieved. "Um, Muggle, actually. I, er, wanted to get it over an area that's had a wizarding tattoo before. I was told at a shop over in Diagon Alley that magic won't work on it, so wizarding's out."

"Well for that you'll have to talk to my da. I haven't finished my Muggle apprenticeship yet, so I can only do wizarding work. Let me go grab him, he's just finishing with a customer up front. Have a seat." Ted gestured to the chairs along the far wall, and turned to walk back through the curtain.

Draco took a seat and began rifling through one of the many portfolio books. The cover had "Muggle" at the top and a small H in the bottom right corner. Draco was impressed with the artistry he found as he flipped through various pictures of Muggle tattoos. The colours were vivid, the lines were clean, and although they were Muggle, the images were full of life. One would think they were accomplished with nothing other than magic.

Draco was so enraptured with the portfolio that he barely registered when someone sat next to him. He was almost startled out of his seat when he heard a voice by his ear, enquiring, "You want something Muggle, to cover an area with residual magic? Left forearm?"

When Draco looked up, he locked on to bright green eyes and a crooked smile. He was stunned into silence.

Moments later he recovered, looking back down at a Muggle tattoo of a phoenix that he now realized looked exactly like Dumbledore's familiar Fawkes. "Fuck," Draco whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Notes:**

The usual... I'm not JK Rowling, she owns everything. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Another big thanks to fulldaysdrive for getting this chapter beta'd and back to me so quickly. You're amazing. This fic would never have been posted if it weren't for you.

Thanks to all the readers who have left kudos so far. I was so excited to see that people actually like my story so far.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He couldn't believe this was happening. Of course this was Potter's shop. Of course Harry-bloody-Potter would be the only wizard in London with the skills to do both magic and Muggle tattoos. Of course-

"I'll just leave you to process all this then, shall I?"

Draco's eyes opened slowly only to see Potter's back as he strode over to the reception desk to consult with Piper about something-or-other. He let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands over his face, desperately trying to make some sense of all this.

When he glanced back over to the reception desk Potter was leaning over the date book making notes and nodding to whatever Piper was saying. As he reached further over the desk to grab a stack of memos, all the moisture left Draco's mouth. Potter had a very nice arse.

Shaking away that uncomfortable thought, Draco took a moment to take in the rest of Potter's appearance. He hadn't seen him in over 20 years, not since his trial. He no longer wore his signature round frames, instead opting for a slimmer rectangular shape that complimented his squared jawline. Potter's hair was as messy as ever, but the inky black mop was now peppered with silvery grey at the temples. He had filled out a bit over the years, no longer the scrawny teen he knew in school. Lean muscle was visible through the tight black t-shirt he wore with his casual Muggle jeans slung low on his hips. Draco could see what appeared to be tattooed leaves poking out of the collar of his t-shirt. He had green and black Celtic knot work wrapped around his right forearm from wrist to elbow, and a magical stag on his left bicep. Every few seconds several tiny white lilies sprouted from the antlers, once in full bloom, the stag shook them out and they fell softly around the stag's face before disappearing completely.

"You're staring, you know?"

Draco nearly jumped out of his chair for the second time and looked over to see laughing turquoise eyes staring back at him.

"He's the best in the city, you know," Teddy bragged. "And I'm not just saying that because he's my dad."

Clearing away his discomfort and unease, Draco put out his hand. "I'm—"

"Draco Malfoy," Ted intrerrupted. "I know."

Draco bristled, glanced away and prepared himself for what surely was going to be a rejected handshake, or at the very least a look of distain. When he felt Ted's large warm hand take his into a firm shake, he looked back to see the same bright eyes sparked with interest and a thousand watt smile staring back at him.

"We're cousins, you and me. Gran talks about your mum sometimes, and Scorpius talks about you all the time."

"You know my son?" Draco asked confoundedly.

He was trying to make sense of all this – really, he was – but he couldn't seem make out arse from elbows from the moment he walked through the door.

Teddy's smile dropped briefly as confusion flashed through his features, but was replaced in an instant as he began telling Draco all about how Rose and Scorpius visit the shop sometimes when they're on holiday from school.

Draco could only nod along and hope that he didn't appear as unsettled as he felt. He knew, of course, that Scorpius' best friend was the eldest Granger-Weasley child, they'd been almost inseparable since they were both sorted into Ravenclaw four years ago. His owls home were full of "Rose-and-I did this" and "Rose said…"

He hadn't known that his fourteen-year-old son made excursions to Camden Town and frequented tattoo parlors run by his estranged cousin and childhood nemesis.

"You look a bit put out." Potter's voice startled him out of his ruminations for what felt like the thousandth time today. Teddy must have gotten up sometime during his internal panic attack because he no where in sight and Harry-sodding-Potter was standing before him with a look of utter amusement plastered across his stupid handsome face.

"Why are you being so calm about this?" Draco demanded. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Draco knew that he probably looked and sounded slightly insane, but it had been a long time since he'd been thrown into a situation that made him feel this out of place. He really needed a drink.

Potter just smiled at him. It was a warm smile - one that softened his features, and made his eyes shine in a way that seemed to make his entire face light up. It was a smile that he's often seen on the Gryffindor when talking to his friends. It was not a look Draco ever thought would be directed at him.

"Relax Draco," Potter sat in the chair next to him and folded his arms over his chest.

Draco? Since when did Potter call him Draco?

He took a moment to force himself to calm down and slip back into his Slytherin mask that protected him from things like this. He clenched his hands into fists a few times before finally folding them over his lap and took one final calming breath. Finally gaining the courage to look Potter in the eye, he raised one pale finely sculpted eyebrow in question.

"I'm going to assume that you heard about us from your new assistant, Rhys. He mentioned he was going to begin working for you the last time he was in. Look, I know this is probably weird for you - and I'm not sure how much you've been told about the shop - but I do know what I'm doing. If you're still interested in at least talking about getting some work done I'm here, okay?"

Despite of the surreal situation that he had found himself in, Draco was finally able to calm down enough to remember why he was here in the first place. He was here to get a Muggle tattoo to cover the place where his Dark Mark was. He was finally ready burying his demons, and this was the first step. Who's better to cover a Dark Mark than the man who rid the world of them in the first place?

After a thoughtful pause, Draco took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that – to talk, at the very least."

"Ok great, how about this," Potter holds out his hand. It only took a second to realise what he was offering. Not just a handshake, but a chance to start over, and that was exactly what Draco was looking for.

Taking the offered hand in a firm shake he offered, "Draco Malfoy, I'm looking to get a tattoo on my left arm."

"Harry," Potter replied. The purposeful exclusion of his surname did not go unnoticed. "I'd be happy to help. What did you have in mind?"

As Draco described his idea Potter – Harry – summoned a large sketchbook and began drawing a rough version of the design, making notes in tiny illegible script with arrows pointing to different parts. He verbalized some suggestions and explained why some things – while good in theory – just don't transfer well on skin and ink.

When Harry finally put his pencil down he had a rough draft of what would eventually be an entire sleeve taking up all of Draco's arm shoulder to wrist. It had been explained to him that his idea for a tattoo of the solar system highlighting the Draco and Scorpius constellations would not translate well in a small area. While hesitant to agree to something this large at first, after seeing the mock-up drawing, he had been convinced that this was the way to go.

"Muggle tattoos take a lot of time," Explained Harry. "This will probably take around six, three-to-four hour sessions with two weeks healing time in between. If we start in," he pauses checking his date book, "two weeks on the twentieth of June, and you come in every other Saturday thereafter, I should be able to complete it on – August twenty-second."

Draco's eyes grew wide with shock. "TWO MONTHS! This is going to take two months?"

He knew that Muggle tattoos took a lot longer than Magic tattoos, but months? That was just ridiculous. A tattoo this size would only take a few hours if applied by magic.

"Draco?" Harry prodded, trying to regain his attention, "Muggle tattoos are done by injecting ink just under the skin using needles. You did know that, didn't you? It not exactly a pleasant feeling either, It's going to hurt. I can't use magic to numb or heal the area because magic can interact poorly with the ink. It can cause the lines to blur, and in some cases causes infection."

As it turned out, Draco had no idea what he was getting into. Taking a few minutes to let this information sink in, he eventually decided that for better or worse, this is what he wanted - He had been held under the cruciatus by the Dark Lord himself - If he can handle that, he can handle pretty much anything.

"Let's do it." He said decisively. His voice was firm, but his hands were shaking. He watched as Harry wrote "Draco" in six different blocks in his date book, and produced a small bit of parchment. It had the name of the shop across the top in ornate lettering and below that was a list of dates and times for each of Draco's sessions. At the very bottom in small neat print it read "Welcome to Your New Addiction."

Draco balled his left hand into a fist letting his nails bite into his skin, and forced his right hand to stop shaking for long enough to accept the parchment and a final handshake from both Ted and Harry.

"See you in a couple of weeks!" shouted Piper, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet and waving frantically as Draco left the shop.

He turned the corner a block away and leaned against the door to his bookstore. Banging his head lightly on the thick oak door a few times, he heaved a great sigh.

"What did I get myself into?" He asked, staring out onto the chaos that was Element Alley on a Saturday, in June.

Rhys will be unpacking and alphabetizing the ten crate shipment of exotic books that arrived that morning from Brazil. That should be punishment enough for sending him to The Wolf and Lily without any kind of warning. Smiling to himself he pushed of the door and entered his store.

**Additional Author's Notes: **

The sentiment "Welcome to your new addiction" was printed on the door of the first tattoo parlor I ever went to. It was a shop called Creative Vision and it was located in Monterey, CA.

Tattoos are very addictive... I would know I have 7 and have ideas for at least 4 more.


	3. Chapter 3

It was half two in the afternoon on June twentieth, and Draco Malfoy was pacing in his office. He would occasionally lean over his antique mahogany desk to pretend he was looking over his sales ledger, but mostly, he was pacing, occasionally running a hand through his hair, clenching his fists or fiddling with his shirt sleeves.

A swift knock on the doorframe of Draco's office and a brief shuffling of feet alerted him to the presence of his shop assistant.

Rhys Blotts was the great nephew of Bartholomew Blotts of Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. He was twenty-three years of age, and aside from his surprisingly keen business sense when it came to the sale of rare and antique books, he was fairly unremarkable.

Rhys stood at an average height of five feet-ten inches, weighing in at around eleven stone. He had mousey brown hair kept trimmed in a sensible crew cut and dark brown eyes. His self-imposed uniform of white shirtsleeves and brown trousers only added to Draco's belief that the man did everything in his power to remain unremarkable.

He was a half-blood and a Hufflepuff and every time those thoughts entered his brain Draco had to fight down the prejudices that had been ingrained in him since birth. Draco had originally agreed to an interview with the young man after an unusually profitable meeting with Bartholomew. Riding the high of the guaranteed profits he'd be raking in from the deal, he'd have agreed to almost anything. It was only days later when Draco realised he had hired a Hufflepuff that he began to dread his rash agreement to take the boy on. Two years later, however, his forty percent profit margin had steadily increased and all initial misgivings were laid to rest. Not only was Rhys incredibly gifted at finding ancient tomes and rare first editions, he was almost Slytherin in his sales pitches to prospective buyers.

"Nervous?" Rhys inquired.

Startled, Draco replied with a hasty but firm "Absolutely-not!" and continued his pacing.

"Maybe," Draco admitted aloud after a moment. "I can't believe you didn't warn me about who owned the shop!"

"I couldn't," Rhys admitted as he stepped into the small office. "I was talking to them about it the last time I went over to the shop. They've got some intense privacy wards around the doors. Anyone who exits, wizard or Muggle, can't repeat the names of the owners in any context related to the business."

"That's nonsense!" Draco groused, "The shop is run by a man and his son, anyone can—"

Draco's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and Rhys just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Apparently, the reason behind it was that they didn't want business that was gained from their names — mainly the father's — but their talent, and they didn't want the press or crowds of people gathering in the shop each day just to get a look at the owners. Quite genius of them, if you ask me."

"Indeed," Draco grudgingly agreed. "I need to get going. Make sure you take an inventory of that shipment from Sri Lanka before you leave for the evening."

With a nod of agreement from Rhys, Draco took his leave for what would undoubtedly be four hours of uncomfortable silence and self-inflicted torture.

—

Draco stood outside The Wolf and Lily with his hand frozen on the door handle. He took three deep, cleansing breaths, turned the handle and stepped into the shop.

Piper was sitting at the reception desk with her head fully engulfed in the fireplace behind it. When she finished the Floo call, she turned in the chair and greeted Draco with her typical thousand watt smile.

"Harry is just finishing up with another client. Go ahead and take a seat, he'll be with you in a moment."

"Thanks." Draco nodded and headed over to situate himself on one of the over stuffed armchairs.

He sat comfortably for all of two minutes before his nerves returned and he began drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Approximately fifteen minutes and four thousand finger taps later, Harry appeared from behind the curtain leading to the main portion for the shop and greeted Draco with a smile that — once again — seemed all too familiar for never having been directed at him.

"Draco," Harry nodded, "I'm going to have you come with me into the main portion of the shop."

Harry pause to take in Draco's appearance and inquired, "Do you have anything on under your shirt?"

Taken aback by the question, Draco scowled and sharply replied, "I hardly see how my undergarments have anything to do with my appointment today."

A wide mischievous smile bloomed on Harry's face and he replied, "Well, considering I'm going to need unrestricted access to your entire left arm, it means the difference between you being totally shirtless for the next four hours, or you retaining some level of Pure-blood propriety and sitting around in your undershirt."

—

Draco had begrudgingly removed his pristine ivory button down and was currently sitting in a padded leather folding chair in tailored grey trousers and a cotton undershirt with the left sleeve removed. He actually wouldn't have minded removing the shirt entirely, but something about being shirtless with Harry Potter staring at him for four hours made his palms sweat and his right eye twitch.

The main area of the shop had four work stations, a reception and waiting area much like the one behind the Muggle repelled curtain, and a long drafting table that ran along one wall. The walls were painted a rich rust color, and were adorned with several framed photographs and various canvases — all of them displaying work done by Harry and Teddy, no doubt. The front of the shop had floor to ceiling windows looking out onto Muggle London. There was no one else in the shop, and Draco couldn't figure out if that made him more or less nervous.

Harry was happily humming along to the Muggle radio and setting up what looked like a tray full of small torture implements. There were two small back metal devices, three silver barrels, an array of packaged needles, a tub of Vaseline (whatever that was), two small squeeze bottles filled with who knows what, several tiny cups full of black ink, paper towels, and oddly, a plastic disposable razor. Harry made a few final adjustments to his arrangement, then nodded to himself — apparently satisfied — before turning to look at Draco.

"Ready?"

Draco could only nod in reply.

"Alright then, we'll just get you shaved and—"

"WHAT! SHAVED? WHY?" Draco shouted.

Harry looked like he was trying to hold in laughter, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it in Draco's opinion. He coughed to cover up the chuckle that managed to sneak out, and when he regained his composure, he explained the need to have all hair removed from the area where the tattoo would be applied. Draco was skeptical, but allowed the other man to begin shaving his arm.

After, Harry asked him to stand so he could apply a stencil. He wiped Draco's arm down with liquid from the squeeze bottles. Judging from the smell it was some kind of antiseptic. Harry then brought out four pieces of thin tracing paper and proceeded to stick them to the now tacky arm. To Draco's surprise, when the paper was removed, thin purple lines covered his arm, outlining the general design of the tattoo.

"Take a look at that and tell me what you think," Harry said, gesturing to a large mirror at the station.

Draco walked over to the mirror to get a better look. The stenciled pattern wrapped around his entire left arm. He could make out the shapes of what would be planets and stars. Harry explained that the stencil was just a rough outline of the design that he would use as a guide while he worked. He pointed out the placement of the two constellations. Scorpius was placed directly over the area where the Dark Mark had been and Draco was just above his elbow on the outside of his arm. Happy with the placement, he nodded and returned to his seat.

While the blonde examined the stencil, Harry had been connecting one of the black metal things to a cord that lead to a black box with several tiny dials. Draco's eyes followed a second cord down to a small metal pedal on the floor. One needle was fed through each silver barrel and were returned to the work top. He watched in interest as Harry attached one of the silver barrels to the black machine and a loop at the end of the needle was fastened in place with a rubber band. The green-eyed man then pumped the pedal a few times with his foot, resulting in a buzzing sound that made Draco jump.

Harry grinned devilishly at Draco and said, "Nervous?"

"Wha— No," Draco stuttered unconvincingly.

"It's fine if you are. I'm going to start off slow to give you a feel for it. If you need to take any breaks, just let me know." He paused as he adjusted his glasses, "I'm going to be honest with you: this is a large piece, and it's going to hurt, but in my opinion, the sensation is more irritating than painful."

"You always have been good at irritating me, Potter. That's nothing I'm not used to."

The other man laughed heartily at that, and pulled an armrest between them. He maneuvered Draco's arm to where he needed it on the armrest and with a few adjustments to the control box of the tattoo machine said, "Here we go."

The sensation was nothing like anything Draco had ever felt before, but he reluctantly agreed that it was more annoying than painful. He had turned his head away so he didn't have to look at what was being done, but after the first few strokes he turned back and watched in morbid fascination as Harry worked.

—

They were about forty-five minutes into the session when Draco decided he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Why this?"

Harry paused what he was doing and looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I have to admit I'm curious. I thought you'd have a half dozen kids with the Weaselette and be Head Auror by now," Draco prodded.

Setting the tattoo gun down and removing his latex gloves, Harry stood and stretched. Draco thought he was going to ignore the question, and took a moment to examine the work done so far. It still didn't look like much — just some random lines and circles — but Harry had mentioned that it would take a few sessions before he would be able to really see the piece come together.

"Tea? Water?" Harry offered.

Draco took this as confirmation that he was being brushed off. He requested a cup of tea and as Harry walked back through the curtain to give Piper their order, Draco wondered if something terribly wrong happened there. He thought about what he knew of the Savior after the war and realised that it wasn't much. Around five months after all the Death Eater trials has ended, The-Boy-Who-Lived seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth. The Prophet had printed a scathing article when it was revealed that Potter had dropped out of Auror training and skipped town, accusing The Chosen One of abandoning Wizard-kind when they needed him to help rebuild after the war. After that it was an endless stream of speculation that only got more and more ridiculous as time passed. First it was that he was in a top secret training facility working to bring the Death Eaters that had escaped to justice. Then it was that Potter had managed to get himself kidnapped by rogue Dark Lord supporters. Six months of escalated rumors had ended abruptly when the Minister made a statement on Harry's behalf that confirmed yes, Harry Potter did leave the Auror program and no, he was not in any danger — and that was it — complete silence for the last twenty years.

Harry returned with tea and biscuits and set them on a tray borrowed from the next station over. Muttering his thanks, Draco reached for his cup and was about to apologize for the enquiry when Harry settled back on his stool and began to speak.

"I hated Auror training," he began. Draco merely raised an eyebrow in response, but internally he was beginning to question everything he ever believed about the man sitting in front of him.

Judging by the contemplative look on his face, Harry was trying to organize his thoughts. After taking a few sips of his tea, he set the cup back on the tray and put on a new pair of latex gloves. He busied himself with reorganizing his workspace for a moment, then gestured to Draco to put his arm back up on the armrest. Draco complied, schooling his features into a look of what he hoped appeared to be general interest, and not complete and total shock.

As he picked up the tattoo gun, Harry continued. "I think I just got tired of doing what everyone else expected me to do. I was tired of fighting."

"I can understand that, I suppose," Draco said nodding his head. "And then?"

"Ginny and I had officially separated at the end of sixth year after—" he paused and shook his head. "We did get back together right after the final battle, but so much had changed by then. The Weasleys were all mourning the loss of Fred, as was I. Then there were the funerals.

"At one point she joked that eventually I'd have to take her on a proper date, instead of just escorting her to and from memorial services. We tried make things work, but eventually she forced both of us — me mainly — to be honest with ourselves…"

_It was a cold, cloudy October day and Harry had just arrived at the gate to Hogwarts. __He was there to meet Ginny_ _for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. If he were being honest with himself, he__'__d admit that he hadn__'__t really wanted to make the journey out to Scotland that morning, but he had promised he__'__d __come to see her. She had excitedly scribbled a note to him earlier that week informing him of the opportunity to meet, saying__ that she couldn__'__t wait to see him. _

_He tried not to think about the fact that he__'__d much rather be resting, and what it might mean to him that he__'__d prefer sleep to visiting his girlfriend whom he hadn__'__t seen in a month and a half. Auror training had been exhausting, and the trainers seemed to enjoy calling Harry up whenever demonstrations needed to be made to the group. It grated on his nerves that once again he was being singled out, not for his skills, but because of who he was. He saw Ginny approaching the gate and tried his best to shove his fatigue and irritation away to greet her with a smile._

_She ran to him the moment she spotted him and threw her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek._

"_I missed you,__" __she __beamed__ at him and grabbed for his hand._

_He tried to smile, but had a feeling it looked more like a grimace when he noticed Ginny__'__s smile faltering. He was about to apologise and __blame his mood on fatigue, __but she beat him to the punch._

"_You__'__re tired from training?__" __she __asked __as pulled him along with her into town. He simply nodded in response. __"__How__'__s Teddy?__" __she__ continued, trying again to pull him into conversation._

_Shortly after the memorial service for Ted, Tonks, and Remus, Andromeda had packed up her life and moved to Ireland with Teddy. She said she needed time to heal, and she couldn__'__t do that in a place where she was surrounded by ghosts, figuratively speaking. Harry understood, but it didn__'__t make it any easier to say goodbye to the only thing that seemed to be able to make him genuinely happy these days. _

_Thinking back to the letter he had received that morning, and the pictures sent along with it, he couldn__'__t help but smile. He dug the photos out of his pocket where he had s__tored them that morning and handed them over to his girlfriend. _

"_He__'__s crawling now,__" __he said, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. __"__Wel__l, trying to, __anyway. Andi says she__'__s been working on baby proofing the house. I sent Kreacher over this morning to see if there was anything he could do to help.__"_

_She handed the pictures back after a quick perusal and he placed them back into his pocket for safe keeping. A wave of sadness washed over him as he thought again of the milestones he had missed in his godson__'__s life._

_Ginny pulled him down onto a bench, and it was only then that he realised that she had brought him to the Shrieking Shack. She released the hand that she was holding and he looked towards her, brows raising a bit in question. Squaring her shoulders and with a look of determination he had seen only when she was faced with a difficult task_, _she began to speak._

"_I want you to listen to what I have to say, and then you can talk.__" __Harry was about to ask what this was about, but she pressed on._

"_No, please don__'__t interrupt. Just listen, ok?__"_

_He nodded his acquiescence._

"_Harry, you__'__re my best friend, and I love you. Because I love you, I__'__m going to tell you something right now. You may not like it at first, but I think if you take some time to think it over, you__'__ll come to the conclusion that I__'__m right.__"_

_He had no idea what was coming and part of him wanted to interrupt, but he just gave another nod and let her continue._

"_You__'__ve been incredibly unhappy since __— __well __— __since the end of your sixth year, really. I know you__'__ve been trying your best to make everyone else happy since the end of the war, including me, but in the process you__'__re hurting yourself. I want you to be happy, Harry. I think you need to figure out what that means for you, and I think you need some time to yourself to help you do that.__"_

"_Are you breaking up with me?__" __T__he realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. At once, he was bombarded with confusion, shock, denial and then suddenly: nothing. _

_Ginny was silent as she let him contemplate what she had just said. She watched as several emotions crossed over his face and when they finally cleared__, __she smiled at him._

"_Yes, Harry. I__'__m breaking up with you, and I__'__m sure if my ten-year-old self were here right now she__'__d be kicking me and asking me just what in the bloody hell I think I__'__m doing.__"_

_Harry began chuckling at that __— __soon the chuckle grew louder __— __and then finally he threw his head back as he released his first real laugh in over a year. Tears began to stream from his eyes. Through his laughter and tears, he released everything he had been holding in during the past few months. They were tears of sadness, anger, frustration, and finally, relief. _

_When he finally calmed down_, _he looked over to see Ginny smiling at him with tears in her eyes as well. She was right. She was his best friend, and he loved her, and because of that, he was willing to let her go._

"So after that, I did a little soul searching. I resigned from the Auror program and moved to Ireland to be closer to Teddy," Harry finished as he wiped down Draco's arm and removed his latex gloves.

Draco just started at him. He could not reconcile this man with the Harry Potter in his mind. He reached out for his tea, which by now had gone cold. He hadn't noticed how much time had passed while Harry was talking and was surprised to see that Teddy was across the room, prepping his own station and talking to a client he'd not even noticed entering the shop.

Harry's voice jostled him out of his thoughts. "I need to get up and stretch a bit. These longer sessions take a lot out of me. Feel free to get up and stretch your legs. Just ask Piper if you need anything, yeah?"

Draco nodded, then got up and stretched as well. His arm was very sore and bleeding a bit. He walked over to the mirror to look over what had been done so far. The outline was complete on his forearm and was now about a third of the way up his bicep. Glancing at his watch, he noted that he only had about an hour and a half left of his scheduled appointment time.

Potter's story had been somewhat enlightening, but it did not escape his notice that he still hadn't touched on how he became a tattoo artist.

—

The rest of the session was filled with small talk and friendly banter. Draco did not press Harry for any more personal information, even though he wanted to. He still had five sessions to figure out just who Harry Potter really was, and it was a shock to his system to realise that was something that he genuinely wanted.

Harry wrapped up Draco's arm in cling film and asked him to go through to the reception area in the back of the shop. His entire arm felt like it was on fire and all he wanted was to go home and take a pain potion, but Harry's next words nixed that plan.

"I know this is probably going to be hard for you, but no magic on that, ok?"

Piper handed Draco a sheet of parchment with after care instructions listed on it. He didn't recognise any of the products listed when Harry pulled a bag from behind the desk.

Digging his hand into the bag Harry pulled items out one by one and explained. "Carex. This is Muggle antibacterial soap; use this whenever you wash over the next two weeks."

He then pulled out a white tube and set it on the counter as he continued, "This is Aquaphor,; it's an ointment that will need to go on your arm after you wash it. You'll need to apply it to your arm anytime you feel your skin drying out over the next two to three days. Some artists recommend Bepanthen for this, but I prefer this stuff. Plus I couldn't, in good conscience, give you a nappy ointment."

A giggle came from Piper, who had gone back to the desk and was now working on The Daily Prophet crossword.

"Lastly," Harry said as he pulled out a blue and white bottle and placed it on the counter, "E45. Perfume free lotion. This should go on as needed for the next two weeks. Your arm will get quite itchy as it heals, but don't scratch it, and don't pick at it. I mean it when I say no magic. No pain potions. No healing potions or charms,; even your everyday soap from the apothecary can't go near this. I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable going into a Muggle shop, so I picked these up for you."

Draco was speechless for a moment as he took in this information. He was annoyed that he would have to deal with an extended healing time, and even more so that he couldn't even take a pain potion to relieve some of the ache. He was, however, thankful and surprised that Potter had been thoughtful enough to pick up the Muggle after care products for him. Finally, he resigned himself to his fate and thanked Potter for everything.

He turned to Piper and enquired about the cost for the session. She smiled brightly and replied, "It's thirty galleons an hour, so one hundred and twenty for today."

He signed over a bank draft from Gringotts for the correct amount, hesitated slightly, and left another twenty galleons behind. He felt a bit odd tipping Harry Potter, but Rhys said it was the done thing when getting a tattoo and he didn't want to appear rude, especially after the man had the foresight to buy him the Muggle products.

Piper placed the items back in the bag they had come out of and pushed it over to Draco. He looked around to say thank you to Potter, but he had left the room.

"He went to clean up his station, if you needed to speak with him again," Piper informed.

"That's alright," Draco replied. "Thank you. I'll see you in a few weeks, I suppose."

He gingerly fed his arm though his shirt and buttoned it. Once he was set to rights, he grabbed the bag from the desk and headed for the door.

"Owl if you have any questions!" Piper called as he exited the shop

As he walked back to his store, he pulled out the parchment of aftercare instructions. Like the card with his appointments listed on it, the parchment had the shop name at the top, and the same cheeky sentiment about addictions at the bottom.

"Fourteen Steps for Proper Aftercare" he read to himself. Reading through the list, he noted the places where his newly acquired Muggle products would be needed. The final instruction, however, made no sense to him at all.

"Step Fourteen: Do not listen to ABBA."


End file.
